


There For You

by NicolleOrgana



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicolleOrgana/pseuds/NicolleOrgana
Summary: The progression of Elena and Damon's relationship through the eyes of the people around them.





	1. Stefan - The Very Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I do _not_ apologize for my overuse of italics. I love them - and I can't (won't?) help myself. :)
> 
> A LOT of the dialog has been taken directly from the show - and as such, does not belong to me. Disclaimer: blah, blah, blah, etc., L.J. Smith & the CW

"I don’t think Elena necessarily came into my life to be my soulmate. I mean - she was. We loved each other, but she was also the only person I’ve ever met who actually believed that my brother was worth loving. And she reminded me that I used to believe that about him too. Her faith in him - it brought Damon and me back together. And yeah - I loved her, more than I ever thought I could love somebody else, but I think in the end I needed _him_ more than I needed her.”

-Stefan-  
6x22

~*~

 

   
It was early on - almost from the very beginning in fact, that I started to worry about the possibility of history repeating itself (at least where my brother's feelings were concerned). It wasn’t a conscious thought, at first - more just a tiny flicker in the back of my mind. 

Elena was _kind_ \- to the core. She had a genuine sweetness about her that was hard to resist. It was that night, the night that she invited me over for dinner so I could get to know Bonnie better and Damon crashed the party with Caroline in tow - that was the first time (at least that I was aware of) that she had turned her innate compassion on _him._

I didn’t know what Damon’s game was, but I didn’t trust him.

I kept one ear on him as he followed Elena to the kitchen, trying not to _seem_ like I was tuning out of my conversation with Bonnie and Caroline (which I was).

“I like you,” he’d said to her, “you know how to laugh - and you make Stefan smile, which is something I haven’t seen in a _very_ long time.” He _sounded_ genuine, but Damon was a master of deception.

With my heightened hearing turned on the kitchen, I caught every sound. Every breath, every heartbeat, the scraping of dishes in the sink. I told myself I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I was just worried about them being alone together. Damon couldn’t be trusted with her safety, I told myself. I was protecting her; looking out for her. (A thought that was almost - but not _quite_ funny, in hindsight. Considering the number of times he would eventually come to her rescue - even from _me_.)

“Earlier - did you mean… Katherine?” She’d asked, and I suppressed a groan - worried about how much he was going to tell her. And more than a little concerned that he might tell her the truth rather than a lie.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“How did she die?”

I was angry with myself, I should have given her some version of the story - by _not_ doing it I had risked that she would hear it from Damon first.

“A fire - tragic fire.” I heard him say.

“Recently?”

“Seems like it was yesterday.”

“What was she like?”

“She was beautiful - a lot like you in that department.” _Real subtle, Damon._ “She was also very complicated, and selfish, and at times not very kind - but very sexy and seductive.”

“So, which one of you dated her first?” I hated how surprised I was that she’d figured it out so quickly - I knew she was intelligent, and it’s not like Damon was really trying to hide it.

I heard him chuckle. “Nicely deduced.”

There was a pause, and when he spoke next the humor was gone from his voice. “Ask Stefan… I’m sure his answer differs from mine.”

There was a sound of glass clanging, and then what I assumed was the dishwasher closing.

“I’d quit cheer-leading if I were you.” He suggested suddenly.

“Why do you say that?” She asked, and I was comforted by the fact that she was as confused as I was - but the feeling was short lived.

“I saw you at practice, you looked _miserable_.” He managed to sound both amused and concerned at the same time.

 _Had she looked miserable?_ I hadn’t picked up on that. But then maybe Damon was just imagining things.

“You saw that?” She sounded surprised.

Then again, maybe he wasn’t.

“Am I wrong?”

“I used to love it,” she admitted. “It was fun… but things are different this year - everything that used to matter doesn’t anymore.”

“So don’t let it. Quit. Move on. Problem solved. _Ta-Da_!” Of course, Damon’s solution _would_ be to just quit.

“Some things could matter again.” She didn’t sound like she actually believed what she was saying.

“Maybe, but… seems a little unrealistic to me.”

There was another pause in their conversation - long enough that I worried what might have been going on that I couldn't see. When I turned to look over the back of the couch, I had a direct line of sight down the hallway to both of their faces.

“I’m sorry,” Elena suddenly said, everything about her was so _sincere_ , “…about Katherine. You lost her, too.”

Damon’s face in that moment was more vulnerable than I think I’d ever seen it - even as a human. Something about Elena dredging up emotions from the depths of him that had long been buried.

I should have known it then, that it was only a matter of time - and not much of it - before he would fall for her.

But it was so very early, still… and I had convinced myself years before that Damon was a monster; someone not only unworthy of love, but who had actually lost the capacity to care, to connect, to love.

Looking back - remembering how those forgotten emotions bled into his face until every thought he had was written onto it - and somehow looking both incredibly young, and every single one of his 170 years - I think that was the moment he realized she was different, special; Someone worth caring for, _feeling_ for. Over the years Damon had learned to insulate himself from that sort of thing - caring for someone gave them the ability to hurt you - it made you vulnerable. But she was worth it.

 

 

When Elena told me the next day that she had decided to quit cheer-leading I was more bothered than I let myself realize at the time. I didn’t want to think about the ramifications of _Damon_ being the one to notice that she was miserable and offering up a solution to her problem - or of her thinking his advice was worth listening to at all.

I should have known _then_ that I was in trouble. (Hindsight, right?) But I didn’t.

Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there was no way that Stefan would actually be able to see them from the living room, considering Damon's back was facing the hall in the show. But for purposes of this fic pretend they're facing the other direction. I really want Stefan to _see_ Damon's face in that first moment.


	2. Stefan - Thoughts on Atlanta

“When we were in Atlanta why didn’t you use your compulsion on me?… You didn’t - I know you didn’t - but you could have. You and I, we have something, an understanding…”

“I didn’t compel you in Atlanta because we were having fun, I wanted it to be real.”

-Elena & Damon-

1x14

* * *

 

The night I found Elena’s necklace on the picture of Katherine - the first night we made love - I knew I was an idiot. I should have told her the truth; nothing could have been worse than her finding out about Katherine by accident.

I was stupid. Stupid to forget the picture was out where she could so easily find it. Stupid to leave her alone in my room surrounded by the answers to all the secrets I was keeping from her… but mostly -

Withholding the truth from her about Katherine - I think that was the first _real_ mistake I made in our relationship.

I didn’t know it then, but Elena was much stronger than I had ever given her credit for. She could have handled the truth, as difficult as it would have been to hear.

And as guilty as she was of doing the same thing herself, very little hurt her more than lies from the people she cared about. She would always rather a harsh truth than a sugar-coated lie - even a lie to protect her. ( _Especially_ a lie to protect her.)

Half-truths and semantics, careful deflection - I was skilled in the art of these things. There were a lot of things I should have told Elena, starting with Katherine. (I told myself I wasn’t _hiding_ anything, I was just waiting for the right time to tell her.) Instead I kept it all to myself, worried about hurting her, of scaring her. Maybe a little worried she might decide it was all too much and leave.

I left voicemail after voicemail that night - begging her to call me back, promising to tell her everything, apologizing for keeping secrets - but no matter how many times I called she never answered.

I spent most of that night pacing back and forth, out of my mind with worry. I considered just showing up at her house, coming in through her window - but I didn’t think she would appreciate it. She was angry, and she was hurt.

It was the next morning when someone finally picked up her phone, Damon’s voice on the other end. My stomach plummeted to the floor at the sound of it. _What had he done with her?_

“Elena’s phone.” He sounded disgustingly cheerful, which I was sure was a deliberate attempt to piss me off.

“Where is she? Why do you have her phone? Is she okay?” I was worried, I was angry, and for a moment I was absolutely certain that he had kidnapped her… or worse. I knew I should have gone to her house, I should have checked that she was okay. I had a brief but debilitating image of her broken and bleeding body in my head, Damon’s chin dripping with crimson.

“Elena? She’s right here. And yes she’s… fine.” I ignored his blatant innuendo. He was _definitely_ trying to piss me off.

“Where are you? Let me speak to her.”

The sound was muffled when I heard him say, “He wants to talk to you.”

Her _uh-uh_ in the negative was upsetting, though unsurprising - but at least I could be sure she was alright. I breathed a little easier at the sound of her voice, but only slightly.

What was she doing with him? Or what was _he_ doing with _her_? Somehow the flip-flopping of those two words changed the meaning from **_Elena, don’t be naive, he can’t be trusted_**  to the much worse, **_If you so much as look at her, I will kill you._**

“Yeah, I don’t think she really wants to talk to you right now.”

“Damon, I swear to god, if you touch her-” My anger was near boiling-point.

I could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke, “you have a good day. Mmm-hmm? Bye now.” And the line went dead.

I stared at the necklace she had left behind - the only protection I’d given her against Damon - and worried about all the things he could be doing to her (or _making her do_ ) that he would feel absolutely no guilt over.

* * *

 

 Of course, it wasn’t until later that I found out that Damon had actually saved her life that night when he’d stumbled upon her totaled car. Had literally pulled her from the wreckage and then carried her to safety after she’d fainted in his arms. He could have left her to die, but he didn’t. He could have saved her life but then dropped her on the side of the road to find her own way home, but he hadn’t.

Instead they disappeared for a day and a half and came back _friends_?

I never did get many details of what happened while they were gone; I never really even asked.

After they came home Elena and I had a long talk - about that night she went over the bridge with her parents; about Katherine, and how in the ensuing investigation into Elena’s past (to figure out the connection) I had discovered that she had been adopted.

When I drove her home later the ride was mostly silent - Elena digesting all the new information she now had, I assumed. We were sitting in the car, on the street in front of her house, when she finally spoke.

“You don’t have to worry, Damon didn’t compel me.” She’d said suddenly.

My face must have been easier to read than I realized, because the possibility that Damon might have compelled her had pretty much been my dominant thought.

“Elena, I hate to say this, but you wouldn’t necessarily remember. You can’t really be sure.”

“I _know_ he didn’t.” She insisted, and she clearly believed it. It was the level of trust and utter surety in her voice that concerned me the most.

“Elena,” I sighed, but I didn’t fight her on it. For all I knew her words weren’t her own, and I wouldn’t know unless I got it from the source. Assuming Damon was even capable of the truth.

  
I confronted him later - demanded to know if he had compelled her. Nothing Elena ever said would make me believe it, because she could never really know.

“I didn’t _need_ to compel her. She had fun, with _me_ , of her own free will. I know, Stefan - shocking. Alert the media!” He was angry, but also clearly very offended by the accusation. It was the slight undercurrent of hurt in his tone that convinced me he was telling the truth… and I worried what that meant.

Damon had never had any scruples about compelling his dinner not to scream, to not be afraid, to forget that he was ever there at all. No problem with making women okay with a little (or a _lot_ ) of recreational biting. But with Elena… with Elena, he wanted it to mean something. He wanted it to be real.

…and it wasn’t that I had _wanted_ him to compel her (I definitely hadn’t), but I didn’t want them to be friends, either. Being Damon’s friend - that was only going to get Elena hurt, I was sure of it. I was convinced that if you gave Damon even the slightest power over your emotions, he would eventually let you down. It was only a matter of time.

Looking back, I’m not sure I was actually wrong. Damon did have a tendency to hurt people - lashing out when angry - and Elena bore a lot of that over the years. Nobody could ever hurt her as deeply and swiftly as Damon was able to, but then, nobody could fix her up quite so well, either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the dialog in this chapter is taken from 1x11 of TVD and does not belong to me


	3. Stefan - Deceiving Damon

  
“Am I going to be safe with you?”

“Yes.”

-Damon & Elena-  
1x11

~*~

 

It had only been a few days since Damon and Elena had disappeared together, but they were still on friendly terms. I worried that the longer it took for the real Damon to emerge, the more hurt Elena would be when it inevitably happened. Though I wasn’t sure if there was a good way to prevent it.

The sound of books being thrown to the floor one after another led me to the library - where I found Damon pulling old volumes off of the shelves in rapid succession, flipping through them, and then dropping them carelessly to the floor.

“What are you looking for, Damon?” I asked, though I had an idea what it was ever since Elena had mentioned the name _Bree_ to me in connection to her and Damon’s impromptu little friendship-bonding road-trip.

“Not your concern.”

“No.” I agreed, “but putting Elena in harms way - that is my concern.” My words were part statement, part warning.

Damon let out a small chuckle, “What are you talking about?” He asked, though I’m sure he already knew.

“I’m talking about Atlanta.”

“Oh, yeah. Elena and I had a _blast_.”

“I get it. You’re just bitter that one of us gets to be with the person that we love, and poor Katherine is _just_ out of reach. Unless there’s another way for you to get into that tomb.” I was working my way up to my real question, “Is that what Bree said?” He couldn’t possibly think that I wouldn’t figure out why he went to see the witch. Back then - those were the days that getting Katherine back had been Damon’s almost sole drive - very little else ever seemed to matter.

“You’re pathetic when you’re fishing.” He’d said without malice.

“And you’re transparent when you’re deflecting.”

“Don’t you have school?” He had clearly been ready to end the conversation, so I left him to his search. It didn’t matter, his non-answer was more of a confirmation than I had actually expected.

 

* * *

 

 

Elena showed up at the boarding house early the next morning - and she had been shaken, but not nearly as worried as I thought she _should_ have been. The vampire that she had hit with her car had called her, was watching her - stalking her - so I gave her the Gilbert compass. A little advanced notice of vampires in the area could only make her safer - I should have given it to her sooner.

 

 

* * *

 

Later, I dug up dad’s old journal, sure that it was what Damon had been looking for. I found him in the library, scribbling away in a notebook at the old antique desk.

“You got the hair right.” He said, nodding at my 50s-era styled hair, done for the decade dance. I tossed the book on the desk in front of him.

“Why are you bringing me dad’s journal?”

“’Cause you were looking for it.”

“And why would I want it?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Damon. Maybe you wanna do a little bit of posthumous bonding.” A dark joke, I knew. The one thing Damon and I could always be counted to agree upon was the fact that Giuseppe Salvatore had been a cold hearted bastard. “Go ahead, enjoy it. Read it.” I indicated the book.

He picked it up, but didn’t say anything, waiting for me to continue, pretending he didn’t really want it. Damon liked playing his cards close to the chest.

“I have,” I continued, “and nowhere in it does it say anything about Katherine, or the tomb, or how to open it.”

“I’m not surprised. The man could barely spell his own name.”

“I’m really sorry that it won’t be of any help with your diabolical plan, the sequel… You know, I could help you.”

“ _You_ , help _me_? Aw, I dunno, seems a little unnatural.”

“I’ll do anything to get you out of this town, even release Katherine.”

_Okay, that I was a lie. I would do_ almost _anything. But not that._

“What about the other 26 vampires?” He asked.

“No, no, no. They can’t come, they have to stay put - but Katherine, I would consider that.”

“What are you doin’? Hmm? What’s your angle?”

“Think about it.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“See, thats your problem, Damon - you apply all of your shortcomings to everybody else. If history is any indication, there is only one liar among us.”

That last line bothered me (would for years, actually) but I reminded myself that it had to be done - what he wanted was too dangerous. We couldn’t let Katherine out - she was a liar, manipulative. And I also couldn’t risk the chance of even one of those vampires getting out - who knew what kind of havoc they would wreak on the town?

So I told myself the lies and manipulation were justified, and hoped that if I said it enough, I would stop feeling guilty about it.

 

* * *

 

 

That night when I arrived at Elena’s to pick her up for the dance, there was someone else there. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I just _knew_.

I could hear Elena’s heavy breathing on the second floor - she was afraid - and then she was suddenly talking to Damon on the phone.

I came in through the back door as silently as possible, determined to find whoever it was before anyone got hurt.

“Where is he?” I heard her demand, panicked. Her footsteps loud as she descended the stairs in a hurry.

“He’s on his way to you - forgot his phone.” Damon said, my heightened senses only barely picked up his words.

She let out a relieved breath, “Oh, thank god. This compass was spinning - Stefan must be here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The call ended and she screamed. I was on her attacker in less than a second - there was a brief struggle - and then he vanished into the night.

 

I called Damon for backup - as little as I trusted him - I couldn’t deny he was good in a fight; you wanted him on _your_ team, watching your back. And, as much as I didn’t like it, he and Elena were sort-of-friends now. I knew he would come, and I was right. He was at the Gilbert house within minuets.

Damon made a beeline straight for Elena when he arrived. She was perched on the edge of the couch and he knelt down right in front of her, one hand on her shoulder as he peered into her eyes. I was sitting _right next_ to her, but I felt like to Damon, for a moment, I wasn’t even in the room.

“Are you alright?” He asked her - voice low - all seriousness and caring; his eyes seemed to flicker all over her, assessing for damage, I assumed, before they met her face again. She nodded up at him, “I’m fine. I’m okay.” His face relaxed and he dropped his hand.

“Good.” He was suddenly all business, pacing around the room. This was much more the Damon I was familiar with… And I had a brief flicker of a thought, _what is Damon_ really _like when I’m not there?_ If this was a version of Damon that Elena had already been acquainted with, it was no wonder that she wanted to be friends. But that same, awful fear reared it’s head on me, saying that the nicer Damon was now, the more Elena would hurt later.

I put it out of my mind to focus on the problem at hand.

“How’d he get in?” Damon asked, trying to put all the pieces together and figure out a plan of attack - he was good at this - always had been.

“He was invited in.” She said, voice still a little shaky from everything that had happened.

“He posed as a pizza delivery guy two nights ago.” I elaborated.

“Well, he gets points for that…” He almost sounded impressed. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No. He was too busy trying to kill me.”

“And you have _no_ idea who this is?” I asked him, and tried not to make it sound too much like an accusation.

“No.” He shook his head, “don’t look at me like that, Stefan. I _told_ you we had company.”

“You think there’s more than one?” She addressed her question to Damon.

“We don’t know.”

“Damon,” I knew there was no way he would miss my meaning, “he was _invited in_.”

He nodded, and for once we were in total agreement. “Then we go get him tonight," he proposed, then turned to look at Elena, “You up for it?”

I suppressed a groan. Of course, I should have known we could never agree on something for long. I was worried - worried that whatever plan he had concocted was going to put her in danger. Worried that he didn’t care _enough_ whether she lived or died. Worried he was about to be careless with her life so that he could have some fun catching the bad guy.

But he wasn’t being careless… that wasn’t it at all.

The truth was, even from the beginning, he gave her far more credit than I did. He knew when she could be helpful - when she could handle herself - and when she needed to be saved _from_ herself… and over the years, he proved himself far more capable of keeping her safe than I ever did.

“What do I have to do?” She asked him.

“Let your boyfriend take you to the dance. We’ll… see who shows up.”

“It’s a bad idea.” I insisted, shaking my head, hoping I could somehow make the two of them see reason.

“’Till we get him this house isn’t safe.” He said, looking at Elena - and I watched her face change; she hadn’t thought of that yet. “For _anyone_ who lives in it.” He somehow knew the exact buttons to push to get her to agree, even back then.  
  
“It’s worth a shot.” He said finally.

A look of resolve stole over Elena’s features, “I’ll do it.”

My eyes flashed to Damon, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at her - he gave her a reassuring **_everything will be_** fine nod - and for the second time that night, I felt like he’d nearly forgotten I was there.

She turned back to me and placed her hand over mine in a gesture that was clearly meant to reassure me instead of her. “I’ll be with the two of you. I’ll be safe.”

 

* * *

 

  
The plan went off mostly without a hitch, and while Elena _had_ been in danger for some of it, it was a result of her going off to find it, which I couldn’t really fault Damon for.

We’d managed to get some information out of our mysterious-vampire-guy before we staked him, chiefly that the information we needed regrading Emily’s Grimoire was in one of Jonathan Gilbert’s old journals - which had been stolen by the founding families in 1864. I knew Damon had hoped that it’s location would have been in father’s journal (considering our status as a founding family), but it wasn’t.

I _again_ offered to help Damon get Katherine out of the tomb. A part of me hated to lie to him, but it had to be done.

“With some hidden caveats, no doubt.” Damon, the eternal skeptic everyone.

“No. Nothing hidden about it. No lies. No deception. I’m there when you open up that tomb, you and Katherine go, and the other twenty-six vampires die.”

“If I agree?” He asked.

“I’ll help you.” The lies rolled easily off my tongue.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m your brother.”

“No, that’s not gonna cut it.”

I supposed if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t believe him either.

“Because I want you gone.” I felt like that was the only thing I said that night that was even remotely truthful.

His face changed at those words, finally, something he could believe.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

“I need to tell you something,” I told Elena later that night, settling in with her on her couch with a cup of tea. “…and I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it.”

“What?” Her face etched with worry.

“I told Damon that I’d help him get into that tomb to get Katherine back, but it was a lie. I let him believe that he could trust me.”

“Well, then why would you be worried about telling me?”

“Because he can be very persuasive, and you two have… bonded lately.” I somehow managed not to wince on the last part.

“That doesn’t mean I trust him.” She said, “It’s gonna take a lot more than just a road trip and a rescue for me to forget who Damon is and everything he’s done.”  
  
Maybe it was me who was the eternal skeptic, and not Damon, after all… Or maybe after long enough it just inevitably happens to everyone. But she sounded like she was trying to convince _herself_ of that more than anyone else, like she didn’t actually believe what she was saying at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the show, the line is actually “He posed as a pizza delivery guy _last night_ ” but either the writers were off, Paul Wesley misspoke, or the producers/editors did a not-so-good job of stringing the scenes together. If you pay attention to the progression of dark/light scenes in the show, there is clearly an extra day here.


	4. Stefan -  Opening the Tomb

  
“The truth is, ever since the first time I noticed you falling for my brother, I have been waiting for him to screw something up so badly that you hate him.”

-Stefan-  
5x13

* * *

 

“Do you think that Damon really believes us,” Elena asked me, as she dug through an old box full of Gilbert family heirlooms “-that we’re both trying to help him?”

“I don’t think Damon knows what to believe. Trust isn’t something that comes naturally to him.”

It was true, and yet it felt wrong to say. It would have been more accurate to say that it wasn’t something that came naturally to him _anymore_ — he hadn’t always been this person. There was a time when Damon trusted all _too_ easily, and I hated that I had played any part in turning him into the monster that he had become — but I was convinced that it could never truly be undone. He was never going to change.

“You know,” she said, flipping through an old photo album, “I really think that Damon believes that everything he’s done — every move that he’s made — he’s done for love. It’s twisted, but kind of sad.”

I could see she truly believed that - that she thought of Damon as a wounded soul with a tragic back-story — and I wondered how much she was just going along with this plan because I had asked her to, rather than her thinking it was _truly_ the right call. She wasn’t inherently a liar, and I think deep-down she had doubts about the plan because on some level she disliked deceiving Damon about _this_. Lying to him about the one thing he cared most about in the world.

The way she saw my brother — her desire to see past his harsh and angry exterior to try and determine the true motives that lay hidden beneath — I both loved and hated her for it. She was too good for this world, always looking for the humanity in everyone, even Damon.

“There are other ways to get what you want,” I pointed out, suddenly desperate to convince her. _Damon could not be trusted_. She _had_ to see that. “-you don’t have to kill people. Damon has no regard for human life; he _enjoys_ inflicting pain on others. For 145 years every singe time that I have let my guard down and let Damon back into my life he has done something to make me regret that. I’m not gonna make that mistake again.”

I knew my words hit their mark when I saw the tell-tale flicker of fear grow in Elena’s eyes. _Good_ , I thought, _she_ should _be afraid_. _Damon should inspire her_ fear — _not her_ sympathy.

“So what do you think will happen if the tomb gets opened and Damon gets Katherine back?” She asked, and I felt a weight lift off my chest at her tone — she was back on my side, and on board with the plan.

“I think that no matter what Damon promises, a lot of people will die.”

 

* * *

 

 Later that night when I arrived at Elena’s house, Damon was unexpectedly there — at the door in fact, foiling my plans to tell Elena what I had just learned about Jonathan Gilbert’s journal from the new teacher. I couldn’t tell her with Damon there, listening in to every word.

Instead — I gave him and Elena the heavily-edited, highly-selective version of the truth. That I went to Alaric Saltzman’s class looking for the journal, but someone had already taken it.

“Who else knew the book was there?” Damon asked, and my eyes automatically went to Jeremy.

“No, Damon,” Elena protested, worried what he might do. “Leave him out of it!” But of course he didn’t listen.

It only took a few seconds of questioning before all the information Damon would need came out - and I knew that once we finally managed to get rid of Damon, Elena and I would need to work fast if we were going to stay ahead of him.

“Who else did you tell?” Elena asked her brother.

“Just that girl Anna.”

“The hot weird one?” Damon pressed — and I felt my eyebrows pinch together in annoyance. It wasn’t the time for whatever emotion I was feeling, but _come on_ , he was bonding with her _brother_ now, too?

“Yeah.” Jeremy agreed, then admitted he was supposed to meet this Anna at the Grill later — and with that piece of information, Damon practically dragged Jeremy out the door. 

 

 

With Damon gone I finally showed Elena what I brought with me: the copy of Jonathan Gilbert’s journal I had swiped from Mr. Saltzman’s desk.

It didn’t take us long of perusing it before we found the necessary clue - Giuseppe Salvatore told Jonathan Gilbert he would take the secret of Emily’s Grimoire to his grave. Our father — always so literal. I was sure he meant to be buried with it, and if Damon got his hand’s on the original copy of the journal, he would figure that out at least as quickly as I had.

 

* * *

 

  
I was right — on two counts, it would seem. The Grimoire _was_ in father’s grave, and it _didn’t_ take Damon much longer than us to figure out that fact.

Almost the exact same moment I climbed out of the grave, Damon came strolling through the cemetery toward us like the creature of the night he claimed to be.

“Well, whaddaya know. This is an interesting turn of events.” He sneered.

“I can’t let you bring her back, Damon. I’m sorry.” And I was — sort of. Sorry that Damon spent the last however-long hoping to be reunited with Katherine only for me to get in his way. Sorry that the woman he professes to still be in love with was an actual monster. Sorry that it was I who stood in the way of his happiness, _again_.

“So am I. For thinking for even a _second_ that I could trust you.” I hated the flicker of pain I saw flash in his hard gaze — something about it making me irrationally angry. What right did he have after everything to play the _victim_ of all things?

“You are not _capable_ of trust. The fact that you’re here means that you read the journal and were planning on doing this yourself.” The angry words fly out of my mouth, accusing — but really, he had no reason _to_ trust me.

“Of course I was gonna do it by myself, because the only one that I can count on is _me_ ,” he yelled. “You made sure of that many years ago, Stefan…” His expression shifted from anger to _hurt_ faster than I would have thought possible when he turned to Elena, “…but _you_?” — and for once he didn’t bother to mask his emotions, betrayal bleeding out of his eyes until it was etched into every plane of his face, “you had me fooled.”

— and I don’t know how it was possible, but somehow Elena looked _more_ hurt than he did; tears swimming in her large brown eyes. I kicked myself momentarily — the expression on her face making me hate myself a little more than I did before. There was really no need for me to include her in my deception, I could have done it without her. Maybe I had secretly wanted to see the fallout of their friendship before it really started, before she could get more hurt.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Damon asked me, bringing me out of my thoughts. “—Because if you try and destroy that Grimoire I’ll rip her heart out,” he threatened — and my charitable feelings disappeared just like _that_.

“You won’t kill her.” I shook my head, almost dismissive — calling his bluff. Even angry, I knew he was lying. He might be mad, but he still _cared_.

I watched a war of conflicting expressions cross his face, before it settled on _determination_ — a dangerous look on Damon. He was on the other side of the grave with Elena’s back pressed to his chest, his arm around her neck, before I could even blink.

“I can do one better.” He promised — and I watched in horror as he bit into his wrist and then shoved it into Elena’s mouth, forcing the blood down her throat.

She struggled against him, trying to push his arm away, but it was in vain.

“Give me the book Stefan, or I’m snapping her neck, and you and I will have a vampire girlfriend.” _This_ — this felt like something he might actually do. This felt like _Damon-revenge_. It was his classic modus operandi — he could have just as easily grabbed the Grimoire out of my hands and disappeared into the forest. With our vast differences in lifestyle, he was much faster _and_ much stronger than I was — he would have gotten away, no problem. No - this was Damon lashing out, and not just at _me_.

“Let her go first.” I insisted.

“The book.”

“I’m not gonna give this to you until she is standing next to me.” I didn’t really think he would do it, but neither was I willing to risk it. He was desperate — and a desperate Damon was an unpredictable Damon.

“The problem is that I no longer trust that you’ll give it back.” I was afraid for Elena’s safety — rage welling up inside me at Damon’s actions — but still, I supposed his comment was deserved.

“You just did the one thing that ensures that I will.” I promised.

I put the book slowly on the ground at his feet, at the same time he released Elena — and she stumbled, sobbing, into my arms.

I led Elena out of the woods, clutching her tight to me the entire way, and I did not look back.

 

* * *

 

I think that night was the first time I underestimated Elena’s very great capacity for forgiveness. I was angry with Damon - furious even, for what he’d threatened to do to her. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that their budding friendship was likely over — that it was the end of the line for whatever bond they had formed — that however hurt and angry she was now, it was nothing compared to the way it would have been if they’d been friendly for longer when something like this inevitably happened.

 

When I took Elena home — and armed with my firm conviction that Elena and Damon’s bond was severed — the guilt of what I’d done came rushing in; memories of our human lives flooding me. I had promised Damon that I wouldn’t tell father what Katherine was, and even though I didn’t tell him _outright_ , I let enough slip so that he _knew_ — and Katherine was captured as a result. My actions got her locked in that tomb — and now I was trying my damnedest to keep her there. Holding Damon’s happiness a prisoner as surely as Katherine was locked up within her stone cage.

— and while I was still furious over what he’d done, I knew he had absolutely no reason to trust me.

(And _he_ had promised _me_ an eternity of misery? I think it’s the other way around, brother.)

“Are you okay?” Elena asked me.

“Damon was right,” I told her, “this is my fault… I put my faith in my father, but Damon, he put his faith in me, and I destroyed that. This is my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t forget that.” She tried to reassure me, but because she had so very little of the story — because I’d shared such a such a small amount of mine and Damon’s complicated past with her, it only eased the guilt by a slight fraction. She may have been right about this  _particular_ night — but she was also wrong. I’d done a lot of things — things that both inadvertently and deliberately hurt Damon.

Things that led us to here.

 

I only left Elena alone in her bedroom for a minuet — just a _minuet_ — to find her some Aspirin for her Damon-induced headache; but it was long enough.

Jenna made some comment about Jeremy’s friend Anna, and it all suddenly _clicked_ into place. I should have guessed before. _How could I be so stupid?_

Anna: Jeremy’s “friend” who just happened to be obsessed with Jonathan Gilbert’s journal?

Anna: who Jeremy had gone to meet tonight, Damon in tow.

Anna: who Damon had met, and right after he _somehow_ knew where the Grimoire was hidden.

_How did I not see this sooner?_ I wondered. Katherine’s best friend was Pearl, and her daughter was _Anna_ bell. Hadn’t I seen Annabell _that_ night, when Katherine and the others were locked in the tomb? Annabell — who had _escaped_?

  
I was in Elena’s bedroom within seconds — my suspicions confirmed. The window was open — curtains fluttering in the wind — and Elena was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

I made my way up and down seemingly every street in Mystic Falls that night, utilizing my enhanced hearing all the while - and for the first time in a long time, I wished I were off of my animal blood diet — I would be able to move faster, cover more ground. I would be able to hear further.

I called Damon - and called and called and called - hoping for his help. But he was ignoring me, still angry that Elena and I had deceived him — though I think Elena’s betrayal stung him a lot worse than mine.

I tried to appeal to the part of him (however small that part might have been) that cared for her.

_“Elena is missing. I need your help._ She _needs your help.”_ I said in my first voicemail message, to no avail.

_“Please Damon. She could be hurt.”_ I begged in the next.

_“Damon, please. I’m sorry we lied to you.”_

_“Damon! Pick up your goddamn phone! Elena is in trouble!”_

_“Are you really going to let Elena die just to prove that you don’t care?”_

_“I think Anna took her. And I_ know _you know where she’s staying.”_

_“Typical, Damon. I don’t know why I thought you might be able to change. You’re still as selfish as you ever were.”_

_“I’m begging you, Damon. Please.”_

 

But it didn’t matter how many times I called, Damon never picked up.

Eventually I made my way home, hoping to plead my case to Damon in person.

I found him in the study, flipping through the pages of Emily’s Grimoire. “Anna took Elena,” I told him, and hoped to god that maybe he just hadn’t gotten my messages — that he’d ignored them. That he didn’t know that Elena was in trouble, but that now that he did he would spring into action.

“Yeah, I got that from your _six-hundred_ voicemails.” His voice blasé as he flipped another page — shrouded in an air of indifference. He didn’t even look at me.

Well, there goes that hope.

“Damon, all night long, every single street in town, I’ve been searching. What if your blood hasn’t passed out of her system?”

“Well at least you’ll know you’ll see her again.”

“Please. What do you know?” I begged. “You were with Anna, you must know where she’s living. Just tell me where I can find her.”

“Nope.” He finally looked up, eyes razor sharp even as he gave a sarcastic smile — he was still angry. “You can go. Really.”

“You know, all I can remember is hating you.” I said, trying to appeal to the humanity that I _hoped_ might still be buried somewhere deep inside of him. “There might have been a time when that was different — but your choices have erased anything good about you.” _Prove me wrong, Damon_. “But see, I also know that you have just as much reason to hate me — this all began with _me_. Katherine got taken away from you because of _me_ — and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He said.

“So please, just tell me what you know.” I begged, hoping that I had gotten through to him even the tiniest bit. “It’s _Elena_ , Damon. If you know something, tell me.”

“I mean this sincerely,” he said, one hand on my shoulder. “I hope Elena dies.”

 

* * *

 

 

When my cell rang, barely an hour later, Elena’s name flashing on the screen — I knew it was too good to be true. But still, I hoped.

“Elena! Are you okay?”

“She’s fine, for now.” It was Anna on the line, “Tell me you have the Grimoire and she’ll stay fine.”

I felt Damon’s eyes on the back of my neck as he entered the room, lingering in the doorway.

“I can get it.” I assured her with more conviction than I actually felt.

“Which means your brother has it, and I have the witch.” They had _Bonnie_ , too? “Sooo… one of you had better meet me in the very public town square in thirty minuets so we can safely discuss how fun it’s gonna be to work together.”

She hung up, and I turned around to face Damon. He was watching with an expression of bored interest which I knew was feigned — he cared — but that didn’t mean he was actually going to help. Or, at the very least, let me _know_ that he would help.

“Go ahead, grovel again.” He said, “oh wait, no… I don’t care.”

 

Thirty minuets later I watched from a safe distance as Damon approached the bench in the middle of the town square where Anna sat.

“Got a hot date,” he asked when he joined her, having just overheard Jeremy asking her to go to hang out with him tonight, “or were you just planning on nabbing the entire Gilbert family?”

“Party, right next to the old cemetery.” She told him. “Isn’t that nice of them — lots of warm bodies for starving vampires?”

“I told you, I work alone.” He insisted — not very believably, considering the fact that he’d shown up to her meeting.

“Yeah, so do I. But you’re minus a witch and I’m minus a spell-book, so what do you say?”

“Stefan will come after you, you know that? For messing with Elena.” I thought he looked pleased at the idea.

“Then he won’t be too happy if I _kill_ her when I don’t get what I want!” She threatened, and then abruptly stood up to leave.

I watched as Damon winced with the words he hadn’t even spoken yet, his eyes raised heavenward. He cared — and he hated that he cared — but he couldn’t help himself.

“When do you wanna do this?” He directed the words at Anna’s back.

“God,” and she actually _laughed_ , “it’s like 1864 all over again. You Salvatore’s are truly pathetic when it comes to women. Tonight, after sundown. Meet at the church.”

I left when Anna did, and headed straight for Sheila Bennett’s house. Convincing Bonnie’s grandmother to do the locator spell had been easy enough, considering — and in almost no time at all I had the address of where Bonnie and Elena were being held.

  
The vampire holding them at the motel was practically a baby, no more than a few weeks turned at the very least. He was so easy for me to beat it was almost humorous — I literally just _opened_ the door and he immediately cowered in the shadows away from the sunlight, and then I opened the curtains for good measure.

I was in and out in less than a minuet, Bonnie and Elena safe and sound at my side.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, what do we do now?” Elena asked once we were safely inside Bonnie’s grandmother’s, and I could feel rolling off of her that she was just itching to get back into the fight.

“For now you need to stay here.” I told her. She would be safe here — hopefully.

“A prisoner, in my own home?” Sheila said, “I don’t think so.”

“I can’t protect you if you leave the house.” I pressed.

“We’ll protect ourselves.” She sounded confident enough, and who was I to stop her, anyway?

“We need to let him have Katherine back,” Elena suddenly interjected, and I wondered how long she’d been holding that it. It wasn’t even that I didn’t agree with her, because I had been thinking the same — but it bothered me a bit that she was thinking it. She should still have been angry over him threatening to kill her, but instead she wanted to _help_ him? “—he’s not going to stop until he gets her. If we help him maybe that ends it.”

“No. He doesn’t deserve to get what he wants.” Bonnie disagreed, taking the stance that I had hoped Elena would take.

“What other choice do we have?” Elena argued — and of course she was right. He was never going to stop.

“Witches being pulled down by vampire problems — as much as we try to do to stay out of it.” Sheila sounded determined, if a little unhappy with the prospect, “I’ll open the tomb — you get your brother’s girl and destroy the rest with fire. Then this will be all over.”

“We still have to get Damon to agree.” I said, and knowing Damon, it might be the most difficult part. We’d already lied to him once — he wouldn’t be so keen on trusting us again.

“He already agreed once.” Elena pointed out, as though it would be the most simple thing in the world.

“Yeah… then we double crossed him.” I reminded her pointedly, “so now he’s angry.”

“He’s _hurt_ ,” She said with a conviction I didn’t necessarily share, “there’s a difference… I think I know what I have to do.”

I followed her into the front room, “where are you going, Elena?” I asked, just as she pulled the front door open.

“I need to talk to Damon,” she said, not stopping her decent down the Bennett’s front porch steps. “I can fix this.”

“Have you forgotten that he threatened to kill you last night?” I sped in front of her, faster than she could blink, blocking her path to the sidewalk.

My super-speed didn't even faze her, “no, I haven’t forgotten!” She said looking up at me, “but _we_ did this, Stefan. _We did this_.”

“Elena,” I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to make her see reason. “It’s not safe. _He’s_ not safe.”

“Stefan, I looked Damon right in the eye and lied to him. He asked me if he could trust us, and I lied to him. I have to fix this.”

“He threatened to kill you last night.”

“You’re right.” She agreed, “He threatened to kill me — and I’m still _really_ angry about that. But Stefan, look me in the eye and tell me you that don’t believe he was bluffing.”

She had me there — and she knew it.

“He won’t hurt me,” and she said it with so much conviction, I almost believed it too.

“I’ll drive you.” I offered. I couldn’t help my protective side from worrying about them alone together — it hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since he’d threatened to kill her.

“No, I need to do this alone. Damon and I will meet you at the cemetery.”

“Elena,” I sighed, leaning down to give her a soft kiss on this lips — she was so endearingly, stupidly brave.

“I’ll be safe.” She promised — and she was right.

 

* * *

 

It was dark out, and at least two hours later when Sheila said, “are you sure Damon will come back with her?”

Everything was prepared — Sheila and Bonnie were ready to do the spell, I had the torches locked and loaded — everything was a go, except that Damon and Elena weren’t back with the Grimoire yet. I’d been trying to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, not distracting myself every second wondering when they were going to be here, and now I was kicking myself for not paying more attention. Had it been _too_ long? Why hadn’t I noticed how long it had been? What if Damon —

— but I needn’t have worried. Just then they entered the clearing, Damon letting out a low whistle in greeting. “Brother,” he said with a nod, “witches.”

“Everything okay?” I asked Elena.

“I just want to get this over with.” She said…

 

I should have known that it would all go south — suspected it, somehow. But it was the first of our “Mystic Falls Rah-Rah-Go-Team Plans” ever put into action, so I couldn’t know that we would get into a pattern of _all of our plans going to hell._

But it did. Sheila had never intended on bringing the seal down at all, and Damon was trapped inside the tomb with Elena — and then Anna was trapped inside, too. And everything was happening so fast —  too fast —  and I heard Elena scream. A bloodcurdling, heart-stopping scream — bringing everything into sharp focus. I couldn’t lose her, so I went in, knowing I might never come back out.

But then Elena was safe, and Damon was yelling, and Katherine had never even been in the tomb at all (what did _that_ mean?). Bonnie swore she could bring the seal down long enough to get me out, and Elena begged me to go back in to find Damon.

“We can’t leave him in there.” She said, a desperate, pleading edge to her voice “We promised him — both of us.”

And because he was my brother, and because she was right, I went in after him.

“She’s not here! She’s not here!” He kept saying over and over again, like he was in shock — unable to get his head fully wrapped around the truth as the last 145-or-so years of his life crumbled to pieces. If Katherine had never been in the tomb, then where the hell was she?

“If we don’t leave now, we’re not getting out.”

“How could she not be in here?”

“It’s not worth spending all of eternity down here! She’s not worth it!” He _had_ to see reason, or we were as good as dead.

“Damon!” It was Elena’s panicked voice that finally broke through his haze. Was it because it was so much like Katherine’s, or something about _Elena_ herself? “Please,” she begged him, and either way, it didn’t matter — one look at her face and he gave in.

 

When we were all safely out of the tomb and accounted for, I watched as Elena approached Damon. He was standing away from the rest of the group — looking lost, in shock — and I worried that he might become violent and lash out against anyone that got too close to him. He’d done that kind of thing in the past — but it was a wasted effort on my part. In that moment, Damon was about the least dangerous I think I’d ever seen him.

She pulled Damon into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling him tighter — and even if she’d known what kind of a horrible person Katherine had been I think she still would have meant it. She couldn’t stand to see people that she cared about in pain, and as much as I hated to admit it, I think that was the moment I truly realized how deeply she did actually care for him.

In my mind she _still_ should have been angry with him over threatening her life — but looking back at it all, I don’t think she was ever really angry at all. Not about that, at least. Somehow, she understood him, had managed to figure him out, right from the beginning. And there I was, after 150 years, still stumbling around in the dark. How did she manage to see in him what I could only guess at, I wondered.

As I watched — in horror, in awe, in fascination — his face crumpled into a look I recognized: _pain_. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, burying his face in her shoulder, like a child hiding from the world — his arms wrapping around her in a return gesture.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really never intended to do so many Stefan-POV chapters in a row, but as I re-watch the show, it has occurred to me that nobody BUT Stefan is paying the Delena progression any notice whatsoever for like the first dozen episodes.
> 
> Up Next: Someone other than Stefan, hopefully. (Leaning towards Bon-Bon.) Stay tuned!


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